Into the Wolf's Den
by IttyBittyTidbits
Summary: Saito Hajime used to be a cold-blooded killer. Nobody thought he had a soft side until he decided to shelter a fellow human being. Can he survive baby-stitting? New and hopefully improved version of Crystal Raindrops.
1. Chapter 1

Into the Wolf's Den

Disclaimer: I do not own Ruroni Kenshin/ Samurai X…although I wish I owned Saito. Thank you to Tamlin for the inspiration! :)

***

Saito Hajime never knew what came over and eventually hit him. He was not antisocial, per say. It was just that his current lifestyle suited him perfectly. He was contented with the job given him, enjoyed the little troubles Kenshin-gumi sometimes threw his way. Life was imperfect, and it could not get any better.

However, fate had other ideas, and so did the French Embassy.

It all began when one of the men asked to leave early for one reason or another. Saito suspected that the newbie had heard night patrol horror stories and wanted to see the dawn break. In the end, Lt. Fujita was sent to replace him. So, mumbling and grumbling behind his superior's back about gatotsuing vigilantes in order to get more sleep, he stepped out of the station with a carefully maintained poker face, sword ominously swinging at his side.

Silence was his companion until he rounded a corner and a soft rustling made him stand still. The sound came from a broad, albeit dark, alley between two estates by the river. He slowly approached. There was a whisper of foreign words, jumbled into what sounded like a rhythmic litany, almost chant-like in quality. A small girl crouched under the wall, smooth sandalwood beads slipping through her fingers. She started when his sword clicked and gave him away. He caught at her wrist, fixing his eyes on the crucifix resting on her lap.

A Christian. He glanced up and saw her face – frightened blue eyes, pale, almost waxen complexion, and golden curls tumbling down her shoulders in disarray. He stood her up, wondering if he should bring her to the station. It was unfortunately his duty time, and he did not want to claim responsibility for a murder by religious extremists. The girl was holding out a few pieces of coins in a foreign currency. French. Recognition dawned. During the Tokugawa era, it was they who supplied weapons to the resistance fighters, namely, their men. He took the girl's hand, feeling a little gracious towards a homeless creature. He would be hospitable, even for just one night.

...

It was strange to be leaning against the wall outside his own room and trying to fall asleep at the same time. Then again, it was just like the Shinsengumi days when even in the night, he was poised, ready to lead his men into battles. But one peek through the half-closed paper door was enough to remind him that his present discomfort was partly due to the spontaneous goodness of his heart.

Saito smirked to himself and took a longer look upon seeing that the girl was fast asleep. He had snuffed out the candle by the futon, and the lamplights outside fully shone into the room through barred windows, offering a little colour to the small, white face. Tomorrow, they would go to the police station to bring her back where she belonged. He did not know how long the search will take, but was confident that it would only be awhile as the girl was most likely to be inquired after.

He crawled back into the hallway and let his eyes rest on the clock ticking in his hand. Outside, the cicadas shrilled the end of summer, heavy breezes whistling through the swirling leaves. It was three o'clock in the morning.

***

No one, not even Madame, was looking when she quietly slipped out of the studio at the end of rehearsal. There was no time to throw on a coat; nor was there need to show that she was going out. She had to hurry if she did not want too be caught. Mentally sending an apology to Madame, Corinne exited through the small door at the side of the performance hall, indulging in only one last look at the groups of dancers excitedly chattering about the upcoming recital. Well, she would not be a part of that. Corinne ran down the long driveway, wincing whenever the sharp gravel poked at her satin toe shoes. Life for her will not be so very easy now.

The chief part of the afternoon was spent reacquainting herself with the city she saw only through carriage windows. It was strange to be in such close contact with a foreign territory: strange smells, exotic sights, and moreover, an alien language. For all their travels as a performing troupe, she had never before felt more excited and apprehensive. Leisurely she strolled the streets, glancing at every shop window, pausing by a gathering of people for the sheer pleasure of repeating to herself that she was in a different place, and was free.

For a while it was fun. But when twilight came, the streets grew silent and empty, shopkeepers boarded up their stores, and window shoppers began leaving for home. When policemen began to light up the street lamps, it was as if her fairytale world of pleasure and play had melted, leaving only a stark reality. Thus, berating herself for her rash actions, she reached into her pocket, hoping to find a suitable amount someone would be willing to trade for Japanese currency. Instead, all she found were loose change, quite valueless, and a scented wooden Rosary given to her by an admirer at Rome.

As she bent down to sit on her heels, she realized just how tired she was from the morning's rehearsal and the afternoon's wandering, the feeling of insurmountable lethargy making her all the more so. She sighed; return was unthinkable, for the piece of paper in her pocket made her imagine the selfishness of such act. It was essentially hopeless, and she became even more determined not be any trouble to her friends.

Corinne did not know how long she kept her position, only that when she broke out her reverie, she knew that she had been telling the beads, and a policeman was towering over her. She had been told that Christianity at its best was tepid in Japan, owing to the previous Tokugawa persecution, and although foreigners were tolerated, they were still warned against flaunting religious items, as there were still extremists. Now threatened, the admonition flew through her head over and over, and she began to hate herself for recklessness.

Nauseated with fright, her mind seemed to stop working when the policeman reached out to touch the crucifix. He watched her for a moment then gestured for her to follow him. In relief, she heard the sword locking back into its sheath.

The terror faded away somewhat during the long walk she was guided through. She dallied behind him, watching the straight, slim figure as they made their way to the residential districts of the city. Once or twice, he would glance to make sure she had not lost herself, and Corinne had to smile. Although the damp autumn fog had begun to filter in the streets, it was yet impossible for her to lose her way when such a commanding figure was right before her.

They had by this time reached a two-storey establishment set between two others of its kind. There was a barred window on the second storey from whence the street was highly visible. The cop had gone up the stairs, leaving her to fumble with the ribbons of her shoes before scampering up after him.

A soft glow illuminated the small room directly by the stairs, and, a moment later, the policeman came out to usher her in. Corinne contemplated the futon, thought to herself that it was most probably his, and that it was being given up for her. She gratefully accepted. The candle was blown out, and the rice paper door slid half-shut.

"Good night," she whispered, and thought she heard the mumbling of a similar wish.

**This is...the story of a girl, who cried a river and drowned the whole world...naw, just kidding. This is the revamped version of Crystal Raindrops. If you've already read it, I can tell you that there's not going to be much change except for the insertion of a few more episodes just to clarify character development. I just realized that the original one was too narrative and lacked life. So, yeah.**

**The little historical details came from Leslie Downer's "The Last concubine". Corinne is Christian here because I thought that making her so would make the fear of Saito more believable and reasonable. **

**For comments, suggestions, and criticisms, please review. Everything sent will definitely be read.**

**-Saika**

**PS. I'm IttyBittyTidbits now, by the way. **


	2. Chapter 2

Into the Wolf's Den

Chapter 2

The familiar ache was there the following morning. Corinne got up and heard the rustle of tulle. So she had fallen asleep in her rehearsal dress. It was most probably ruined now, the crinoline crumpled in many places, and the gauze filthy from the streets. She greeted herself sardonically, wincing when a sharp bolt of pain raced through her side. She had always told herself that it had gotten a little better, but really knew that she was just getting used to it. Sighing, she made her way downstairs.

***

Out of practice.

"That's the culprit," Saito growled to himself, unable to understand how _that_ could have possibly happened. He was ashamed of himself and could only thank the gods that the foreign girl was still asleep when he opened his eyes, saw it was daylight, and was oh-so-shocked to note that the luxury of slumber had left him very nearly kissing the smooth, polished wood of the floor.

"No one saw that," he said, dusting himself off with a puffed sense of injured dignity. He had to prepare for work.

He had almost forgotten his housemate, and would have done so if he hadn't heard the soft padding of her footsteps down the stairs. Another day, another extra load. He smiled at the remembrance that last night's patrol man owed him one. So the day wasn't a lost cause yet. He looked up to greet her, blinked, and then stared stupidly. Although it was part of the plan to make her look a little more pitiful, he was not unaware that overdoing it would only scream disregard and pretension, the former something he would much rather not be accused of.

"Not a very good morning, for you now, is it?" he asked. It was meant to be cynical, but he later found out the hard way that the sarcasm thrown back made him the joke of the day.

With a remorseful shake of the head, he sat her down and began pulling pins out of the messy bun that had ceased looking like one ever since his new friend slept in it. The problem was, he had never touched this particular piece of "girl stuff" and was very near frustration before he finally understood that they were devoid of complex mechanisms.

He stood around looking for a hairbrush and eventually found an old wooden comb the last tenant had left on his bookshelf. When he returned, it annoyed him no end that the girl's attempts to copy his hairdressing techniques had ended drastically. Saito yanked out a small dagger and was about to chop off the little golden knots when his companion began to sob and he realized that she was staring right at the blade.

Muttering things about how he was better able to keep his hair untangled back in the Shinsengumi days, Saito slid the knife back into its sheath and sat down resort to traditional methods. He never considered that even his long hair was not done up in ringlets.

At the end of an hour, Saito was very well aware that he was late for work. Luckily, the long strands were by then neatly combed, falling in a shiny waterfall down his young charge's back. The last straw came when she showed him the pins, meaning to ask if he could return her hair to the tight chignon that he had taken down and wrestled with. The exhausted cop only threw a distasteful eye and folded her hands over them. Never again, he decided, would he touch those deadly things. They sucked the life right out of you. As far as he was concerned, enough was enough. Another hour of combing and pinning would culminate in a ritual involving blonde curls scattered all over the floor. The sword is, after all, an impatient weapon.

He stood her up, dusted the gauzy overskirt, straightened a few creases, and surveyed his work in satisfaction. On the way out, he did a double take, remembering that he hadn't asked for her name yet.

They faced each other again.

The incredible height difference that initially gave Saito a superiority complex now proved to be an inconvenience. He was so tall, and she so small, that he began to wonder if she was not just a mere child, maybe ten or eleven years old. That aside, they had to communicate. Or at least, learn each other's names. He bent down to level with her, pointed to himself and said,

"I am Officer Fujita. Fu-ji-ta." He repeated, emphasizing every syllable.

"Bonjour," she murmured, curtsying a little. Saito nodded and pointed at her. She scrutinized him for a while before replying, "Corinne Montaigne."

"Corinne," he repeated, trying out the strange name. It was her turn to nod. Saito smirked to himself and gestured for them to go out the door.

They seemed to understand each other perfectly.

...

"What do you mean you don't have time for this?" Saito growled, trying to keep himself from thundering at his superior. "She's a foreigner, and has to be returned to her companions."

The police Inspector ruefully shrugged. "There's just so much that needs looking after, what with the troupe brought over by the French embassy. The government isn't exactly on the best terms with them, but we need the endorsement. I'm sorry Fujita, but until she's been reported missing, we can't go about the city looking for her mommy and daddy."

"If the French dancers are on top of your priority list, might I not inform you that Corinne-san may be one of them?" He slapped a colourful flyer onto the desk and pushed it towards the older man.

"We shall see what Corinne-san thinks herself," came the reply, and the sheet was put into her hands.

The girl scanned the page, and returned it to the inspector with a vehement shaking of the head. She got up from her chair and quietly stood beside Saito.

"Well, Fujita, I think this young lady fits your theory. But the reaction to a possible return isn't favourable. Whatever is the matter with them, it is their own. However, since we are to treat foreigners as guests, I suppose you should keep her for a while."

Saito felt a dull throb slowly inch its way up his head. He smiled most diplomatically, trying not to look like a bloodthirsty killer. "I entreat you to remember, sir, that in cases like these, it is the superior officer's duty to take responsibility."

"And I hope you've read the rejoinder, since you are obviously familiar with that rule. The exception is if the superior officer is unable to satisfactorily care for the aforementioned responsibility, in which case the claims of temporary guardianship will then be duly and officially transferred to the next in command. If found by an officer, that man shall be obliged to claim guardianship." The Inspector slapped his rulebook shut and indulgently smiled at Saito. "Shall today be a rest day so that you may familiarize yourself with your new family member? I think that would be agreeable. Good morning, officer."

Saito stood up stiffly, vaguely shocked that he had lost an argument. How could he have when he read and re-read that particular provision early in the morning just to be able to attack the Inspector full force? He wanted to bite back, but instead found himself bowing and replying, in the politest tones, "Thank you Inspector. We will leave now. Good morning."

He had hurried Corinne out before him, and she now stood waiting as he very slowly, very deliberately, shut the door. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and met her eyes. "What on earth am I going to do with you?"

...

As if being stared at while walking in the streets wasn't bad enough, Saito had to endure extra minutes of rude hollering, teasing, and laughing, just waiting for a chance to speak in front of the Kamiya dojo. Before he even saw the man, he could hear Sanosuke's guffaw and greeting phrase,

"I thought you came to pick a fight, but it looks to me like you're in trouble! What did ya' do now, kidnap a princess?" And then the man appeared. He had to stop the urge to poke a gaping hole though the said man's head.

"Good morning, Sagara," he replied with restrained serenity. "Noisy as usual, are we not? I'm glad to see you sober for a change, but it would really make my day of you'd stop minding my business. It's Miss Kamiya I'd like to see."

Sanosuke opened his mouth to retort. Thankfully, Kaoru came running, Yahiko in tow. And almost immediately, the student bellowed, "What do you want with Kenshin now? I'm not letting you in!" He brandished his practice stick, earning a whack and a good scolding from his teacher.

"I'm sorry." Kaoru nodded apologetically. "How can I help you?"

"We," he gestured at Corinne, "would like to see you in private, is it isn't too much to ask."

Kaoru contemplated. "I guess it's all right. Please, step inside."

***

It was a strange think to know that one was being talked about without any actual knowledge of the flow of the conversation. Thus Corinne sat, feeling like the stupidest person in the world as she watched herself turning into the subject of earnest conversation without understanding anything but her own name. At length, Monsieur seemed to thank the lady and introduced her as Kamiya-san. Then he left to, she presumed, quiet the man and the boy who gave him quite a rude welcome.

Mademoiselle Kamiya-san held out her hand, making Corinne feel like a five-year-old who would lose herself if she let go of Maman's hand. She was led into a small enclosed room that turned out to be a bath, handed a robe and other bathing implements, Mademoiselle all the while gesticulating, trying to explain what they were for. Corinne made them out as best as she could and was then shut inside.

She survived to determine that she did not know how to put on a Japanese robe, as well as to decide that she liked Mlle. Kaoru-san to comb her hair rather than Monsieur, who became impatient when he had to untangle knots. Mlle continuously spoke to her in the gentle, bird-like tone of Japanese women, even though the former knew Corinne would not understand. Then she seemed to take leave, reappearing with a kimono hung over one arm, and a sash on the other. Corinne was helped into it, then they made their way to the courtyard where the dojo's usual inhabitants had gathered to greet new arrivals.

***

With a full house and hands, Saito knew it would be a regrettable decision to leave his charge in the care of Kenshin or Kaoru, comparably responsible though they were compared to the others. Megumi had arrived with Dr. Gensai's little granddaughters; and because Saito hated the thought of being that day's entertainment, he quickly thanked Kaoru, bade farewell, and was gone.

Although it was his plan to bring Corinne out for a walk, he loathed passing by the broader sidewalks lined with foreign shops because the girl always seemed to see one or another of her companions and always took to using him as a living shield. It was bad enough to have foreign merchants calling out to the young lady with him and advertising their wares to her, but it was truly awkward to walk without knowing for sure whether or not he would step on the girl as she continued to dart around him. Just like anyone, he eventually grew tired of hide-and-seek and decided to return to his normal route; it was nearing lunchtime, anyway.

They made it to his favourite noodle house without much incident except for the patrons' curious stares. Corinne sat quietly, watching him over her bowl of fast-cooling food but never making any attempt to touch it. Saito split a pair of wooden chopsticks and slid them over to her. He realized that using Oriental implements was top one in his list of things to teach her. Cursing fate and wishing that no one would see, he scooted over beside her.

"Say ahh," he ordered in a low voice, waggling the noodles he held up in mid-air. "Hurry up and say 'ahh'," he repeated, furtively glancing over his shoulder. He was almost sure he saw someone pass by.

A woman's laugh suddenly sent a chill down his spine. "Why officer, how nice of you."

Megumi. SHE SAW.

Saito did not dare to ask what she found so "nice" about him. "You didn't see that."

"Not if you didn't want me to," she replied so sweetly that he braced himself for the catch. The lady doctor gestured behind her at the Kenshin-gumi, who instantly returned to their food. "You'll have to convince everyone else, though."

KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

**Note: The rules quoted by the inspector of police were made up…don't take them seriously. **

**Reviews encourage me to post, so pleeeease review. Anonymous reviews, criticisms, and episode suggestions are very much welcome…**

**-Tibbits-**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

If there was one lesson Corinne did not forget, it was Madame's telling her "children" to make friends. In truth, they travelled so much that the people they met became no more than acquaintances. But still they were urged to make friends. Especially Corinne. Everyone knew she had been Madame's favourite ever since the teacher had taken her in as a child. Because of that distinction, others in the troupe respected her. But it kept her from making real friends. Everyone had to be nice because they had favours to ask – things like a more important role in a new production, or maybe even a new pair of ruby earrings from the gypsy women they sometimes met during their tours. The worst part was, Corinne knew they would only be all too happy to see her go.

But for all her companions' scheming familiarities, Corinne did succeed in making one friend – Clara Weber. Madame had intended for the girl to be Corinne's maid, but the girls became such close friends that Corinne had Clara attend her dancing lessons. In time, the latter became one of the troupe's foremost dancers.

Were it not for Clara, Corinne would never have trusted people enough to make friends, which friendliness was causing Saito one big headache.

It had almost become a daily routine now: Monsieur would drop her off at the dojo. An hour or so after he left, the neighbourhood boys would come sneaking around the dojo walls, trying to see for themselves whether the rumour about the foreign girl staying there was true. Sometimes, M Sagara would chase them away; and every time he did, M Himura would somehow persuade him to just laugh it off. Corinne soon grew tired of feeling like a museum piece on display, so, when M Himura looked at her questioningly one day and held up a shopping basket, she immediately decided to accompany him.

M Himura let her wander about while he did his shopping, and peering into one stall after another, Corinne thought she heard familiar voices.

"...this material is just right for the costumes...richly brocaded, but not too heavy..."

She couldn't be mistaken. In the textile stall across the street were two women looking over yards of richly embroidered silk. The one in a dark gown was slender, standing a few inches taller than the merchant, who was anxiously watching whether his goods would be sold. It was Madame, accompanied by their dressmaker Matilda. Running as fast as she could in her wooden clogs, Corinne made a beeline for a display of lacquered chests.

"Mademoiselle!"

She jumped a little, at once screeching to a halt. "Clara," Corinne replied in a breathless half-whisper. She grabbed the girl's hand and dragged her behind the pile of travelling chests, where they ducked for cover. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"And _you_, Mademoiselle?"

"Don't call me that when you're trying to be sarcastic," she peered to see whether Madame and Matilda had heard them. Seeing that the latter were still bargaining with the merchant, Corinne settled down again. "Obviously, I'm trying to keep myself from being seen," she continued. "Now you?"

"I'm supposed to be helping Madame and Matilda with their shopping," Clara said dryly.

"Then you'd better go," Corinne said in alarm. "They're sure to look for you...and in the process spot me too."

Clara frowned at her. "Why do you insist on being so stubborn? Don't you know how worried Madame was when you suddenly disappeared during rehearsals? Be a little more considerate, Corinne."

The other sighed. "Nobody probably knows the main reason I left."

"You didn't even tell me," Clara said, looking hurt. "I thought we said no secrets."

"Except for this one. I...only want to protect you. Believe me."

"From what?" The second girl began to stand up angrily. "You're just being selfish, that's all. Madame has spoiled you too much. I have to go. I don't want Madame to think I took off like you did."

Corinne held on to the hem of her skirt. "You're not going to tell them about seeing me, are you?"

Clara simply shrugged. "I don't know. Madame was really upset when you left. Someone has to let her know she doesn't have to worry anymore." Prying off Corinne's hand, she flounced away.

***

Many things irked Saito Hajime, but he lately discovered one that bothered him more than anything.

He was not secretive about the fact that Corinne lived with him, and that he acted as guardian while yet she was not ready to leave, for that was how he perceived her: unwilling to return for one reason or another. He was very patient with that, even going as far as trying to understand her reasons for doing so. She was beginning to grow on him, so much so that he did not appreciate finding out that certain lads have discovered his pet's morning hiding place, and that they were perpetually trooping to the Kamiya dojo to catch a glimpse of the exotic creature who spent her days lingering with perhaps the oddest-matched people in the city. Others might call his methods of obtaining information "snooping", but he always insisted that "caring" was a much better word.

Saito tapped his fingertips on the table, eyes flicking towards the little watch on his desk. Only five seconds had passed since he last checked. "Let it be quarter to five, let it be quarter to five," he muttered as a mantra, grinding his teeth as he did so. He checked his watch again. Fifteen seconds had passed.

He decided to finish his paperwork. Saito forced his attention back on the sheet of paper before him. A perfectly balanced stack of reports sat on the upper right-hand corner of his desk, still waiting to be read through. He couldn't concentrate. Taking a deep breath, Saito decided to try a different method.

"On this day, September 24th – Dammit!" The pencil in his hand snapped. If reading aloud did not work, nothing would ever make him focus. The wolf fiercely glared at the sheaves of unfinished paperwork. He wouldn't be able to leave early if he didn't finish his work. If he didn't leave early, those street urchins would be hanging around his newest toy for even longer. In his frustration, he slammed a fist on the table. But as he did so, the inkpot toppled over. Black India ink flew up onto his shirt and dribbled onto the written reports.

"Officer, are you all right?" one of the men poked his head around the office door. "We heard a noise."

"Just fine," Saito replied with as much finesse as he could muster.

The man looked hesitant.

"Ever heard of inkblot tests?" he finally growled, holding up a piece of paper blotted with the black ink.

"But sir, those are the reports –"

"So they are," he replied nonchalantly. "Now get back to your desk."

"But sir –"

"What?"

"The captain sent me to inform you that we have received a tip regarding the missing French dancer. He has ordered that a squad be sent out tonight to search for her."

Saito's pen froze mid-air. "And am I to lead the squad?" he asked disinterestedly, already thinking that he had to hide Corinne somewhere. His subordinate's "At six tomorrow night, sir," went unheard.

--

He had no reason to, before, but Saito was growing increasingly worried about Corinne. Gut instinct told him that she was hiding something, but he left it to her discretion to let him know or not. She seemed happy enough to see him again when he arrived to pick her up late that afternoon and was even lively during their walk home. However, she was slowly getting into the habit of spacing out so much that sometimes, she would not hear when he called. Just like that night.

Saito believed that Corinne would eventually get to understand Japanese if she heard enough of it, and so constantly spoke to her whenever they were together, even though he knew that sometimes, she was not really listening. So while he washed his dirty uniform, she sat waiting for him on the tatami mats at the edge of the hall, legs dangling over the sunken kitchen floor. At first she listened, and then little by little, her attention drifted away until she was just staring blankly, unmoving.

"Hey, are you all right?" She seemed to "wake up" and even smiled at him, but did not say anything more. "You should really stop slipping off like that," he continued good-humouredly. The ink had come off easier than he expected, and he was wringing his shirt out to dry. Saito had forgotten that he was still wearing his sword, and as he turned to hang the fresh laundry on a length of rope, the heavy weapon swung with him, striking Corinne on the left leg. She winced a little, pressing a hand onto the injured spot. Almost without thinking, Saito pulled up the hem of her kimono. Corinne tried to push him away, but he held her ankle firmly. What he thought would be nothing but a painful mark the width of the sword's sheath turned out to be a red and purple bruise.

He gave her a cold compress and then brought her back to her room. Corinne was silently crying.

"What's wrong now?" he asked, fumbling for a bottle of ointment.

She just shook her head, brushing away tears that did not seem to want to stop anytime soon. The injured leg was stretched out before her, and taking the chance, Saito rubbed the cream on it. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but still she cried out. Corinne bent over forward, both hands clamped tight over her mouth. She continued to cry, even after it was all over and he was tucking her in.

Saito snuffed out the candle beside her futon and crept back out into the hallway. He slept with his back against the wall, the paper screen door opened just a little wider than usual. He had never seen anyone make such a big deal over an extremely minor injury and was inclined to think that Corinne was overreacting. But as her whimpers floated over to him, and as he allowed himself to be lulled by her soft sobbing, Saito knew somehow that once again, his gut feeling was going to be right. There had to be something more to the matter.

--

The big day finally came. Saito finished his paperwork extra early to prepare for the ambush. Leaving the police station, he stealthily snuck up to the dojo. Corinne was out on the wooden walkway, idly arranging a bunch of flowers. He snarled; he could just _smell_ the street urchins lurking around the property. Much like a hungry, possessive wolf, he entered the compound, effectively hiding where he could see and not be seen.

"Thinking of the best method of approach," he muttered to himself as he spotted one of the boys trying to duck behind a shrub. "Now you see me, now you don't." He crept behind a tree, eyeing the crouched figure in front of him.

Corinne noticed the boy and stopped whatever she was doing to watch him gingerly stand and crash through the bushes, making a beeline for her. He flushed a bright red. "A-anou…Corinne-san," he began. Saito, smirking, noted the nervous trembling. "I just wanted to…to hand you these as a…" he thrust out a jumbled bouquet of flowers.

It was time to act. Now or never. Saito carefully stepped around the tree. "I never expected to see a suitor. It's really too bad that Corinne-san cannot tell me herself."

The boy jumped about a foot in the air. "Lt. Fujita!" he gasped.

Saito smiled wickedly. "Did I interrupt? Forgive me, I did not mean the intrusion."

"No, sir. I – I mean, that's quite all right. Corinne-san…I only meant to show her my appreciation." He bowed frantically. "G – Good-day, sir."

"I hope you'll remember that trespassing is a crime punishable by law," he added, highly pleased with himself.

"I did not expect to see you here so early, Saito," a familiar voice called to him. Kenshin approached with an apologetic smile. "Was anything the matter? I thought there was a scuffling of feet and someone scaling the wall."

"In that case, I hope you will take extra care not to allow random lads into the property, Himura," he replied with emphasis. He glanced at Corinne, who was looking up at him with big, wondering eyes. "We will leave early today," he told Kenshin, half certain that his little charge knew something was up.

"Is there a problem?"

"Not exactly," he nodded. "Well, we have to leave now." He held his hand out for Corinne to take, said a curt "thank you" and then left.

***

Monsieur was walking so fast Corinne had to run along to catch up. He was holding her hand now, almost dragging her through the streets. She wanted to know what the problem was; the nasty gut feeling welling up in her ever since she saw the way he spoke to M Himura. For a fleeting second she thought Monsieur would bring her to the police station and turn her over to Madame. But they made towards the residential district.

The surrounding areas had begun to darken with the sunset when Monsieur ushered her into the house, slamming and locking the door behind himself. His tense face made Corinne nervous. Finally, he shook his head and walked her up to her room. She followed slowly, trailing behind him.

Putting down his sword, Monsieur opened the linen closet. There was a little space beside the folded-up futon. He gestured to her to stay there. He tried to explain why, but all Corinne understood was that he was going out, and she had to hide herself. She wanted to obey, but not understanding anything scared her into refusal.

He knelt down to explain all over again. Corinne grabbed his sleeve, shaking her head vehemently. She was afraid he would leave her, just like what happened that terrible night in the opera. Monsieur sighed, prying her fingers off his sleeve. He was saying something that must have meant "he had to go but would return," but it was all the drone of an unfamiliar language to her.

"No!" Corinne cried, holding on even tighter. She was sorry for distressing Monsieur so much, but she couldn't control the fear. She didn't want him to leave...didn't want to be alone.

With one powerful stroke, Monsieur yanked her hands from his arm. Then, with a murmured apology, urged her to stay inside the closet and be quiet. Corinne buried her face in her arms and sobbed silently. The doors slid shut. She was defeated.

In a few moments, she heard the soft padding of footsteps down the stairs. She wanted to see him for the last time, but did not dare to venture outside the linen closet. On the streets below, she heard the loud bantering of policemen. The front door slammed shut, someone greeted Monsieur, and the voices faded away.

The house was eerily silent, the linen closet especially so, and very dark. Corinne huddled into her little corner, trying to contain the bout of shivers. She bit her lip to keep from crying, but the tears nevertheless came in rivulets down her face. The darkness brought her back to a winter nine years ago in the Paris opera house. She was five. The events leading up to it were a little hazy. There was papa and maman...the staging of the ballet "La Traviata"...and...the night. The cold, dark, snowy night.

"Papa and maman wish that you will grow up to be a beautiful ballerina, and perform in the Orient..." Those were last things Corinne remembered hearing from her parents before they left for home. Maman gave her one last kiss, and then they were separated at the front steps of the opera house. Corinne waited until her hands grew numb with the cold, but her parents were nowhere to be seen. The rushing crowd slowed to a trickle, and then completely disappeared.

"Maman? Papa?" she called then, trudging through the thick snowfall. Tears prickled her eyes, but she did not dare cry. She repeated the calls, but nobody came looking for her. She thought maybe they forgot, and would return in the morning, so she drew up beside a stone niche to wait.

The night advanced. She finally fell asleep in exhaustion.

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A/N: Ta-daa! I'm back! This story has been on hold for some time partly due to laziness and my reluctance to **bleep** so and so in the further chapters. (Spoiler) Anyway, I'm back on track and hopefully, such diligence will be sustained.

**Riiight. It's summer break for most of my readers, but for us here in the Pacific, it's all about school/low pressure areas/ sunny days=flu season. Global warming has really thrown the weather out of whack. But the point is, summer break means lots of free time. Lots of free time means having time to REVIEW!!! Please, please let me know how you like/hate the story so I'll know whether to continue editing and re-updating or to just junk it into a forgotten corner.**

**BTW, thank you to Rhiniel to adding this to your alerts list. It's inspired me a little to post. This chapter's for you!**

**Minna-san, ja mata!!!**

**Signing off...Tibbits :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When Corinne woke up again, she was in an unfamiliar room. The cold white of the snow was replaced by the warm orange glow of the bedside lamp. She shifted comfortably under the layers of blankets, and found a fuzzy rag doll lying by her side. Unwilling to leave the cozy nest, Corinne peered out from beneath the blankets. In a corner of the room, a very pretty lady sat sleeping on a rocking chair. A great black cloak settled over her shoulders, but her skirt was cut to the calves, exposing the black satin toe shoes on her neatly tucked feet. The dark brown hair was pulled back, although little tendrils had begun to fall out, framing her white face. From the strange lady, Corinne, examined the room: simple, but for the massive antique bed she lay on. Numerous travelling chests were scattered around the room, some piled up in corners, while others open before the lady.

Corinne couldn't keep her eyes off the lady. There was something in her tired, perfectionist features that strangely appealed to her. Something that seemed to suggest the comfort a lost little girl was yearning for. As she watched, one side of the cloak slid down the lady's shoulder, exposing creamy white skin. Corinne glanced outside the window. It was snowing. The lady would be cold. Grabbing the rag doll beside her, Corinne slid off the bed, softly making her way to the rocking chair to rearrange the cloak.

The lady stirred.

Corinne suddenly shrank back, clutching the doll tightly against herself. The lady blinked a few times, and then smiled as she saw the little girl. "You're awake." When she spoke, her voice was gentle, pleasant. She opened her arms. "Why don't you come closer?"

Corinne hesitated, but at length approached her gingerly. The white arms wrapped around her in an embrace, and then lifted her up to the lady's lap. "What is your name?"

"Corinne," she replied instantly, transfixed by the deep green of the woman's eyes.

"And how old are you?"

She held up five fingers.

"Oh, five. How did you come to be sleeping outside in the snow? Did you lose your papa and maman?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me their names?"

"No."

"Where do you live?"

"Paris."

The lady sighed, shook her head slightly. "Cherie, I'm afraid I cannot help you find your papa and maman. But we will try. You're more than welcome to stay with me until we find them..."

They never found her parents again. But inside that room, safe within a kind stranger's warm embrace, Corinne knew she was home.

***

Saito sighed to himself. His legs ached from the folded position he kept them in for so long, but hesitated standing and leaving her side. It was dawn before he was finally able to leave the patrol after a wasted night of futile search. He thought of her hysteria all the way back home, all the while apprehensive that she had left her hiding place to run away again. The girl had done it once, from one of the French ambassador's estates, no less, and Saito believed she could do it again.

He wondered what it was about Corinne that nailed him so. She was a weak, useless being, used to pampering and western luxuries. She couldn't cook, couldn't clean – couldn't do even the littlest thing he would consider useful. And yet he was drawn to her. The very sight of her rekindled a long-forgotten feeling – the longing to protect. It was a while since he last had something to care about deeply, and while he did not relish the glitch in his armour, he certainly missed it. Then came Corinne, and was just all that – the weak, useless thing he needed.

Glancing momentarily outside the window, Saito muttered a low scowl. The sun was climbing higher in the sky – a sure sign that although he led the night operations, the chief expected Fujita to show up bright and early for the new workday. The government may have changed, he grumbled under his breath, but some things never do.

Corinne was still asleep. She probably would for some time longer, so Saito surmised that it would be all right to leave her. He could escape the dullness of the office for a few hours to come back for her later. He was about to stand to go when Corinne shifted in her sleep. As she turned towards him, her kimono sleeve hitched up past her elbow, revealing yet another big bruise. Saito froze, and then very gently ran a finger over it, wondering how many others Corinne managed to keep secret from him. Dr. Gensai would probably know, he thought, rearranging the sleeve, but he did not want to ask behind Corinne's back. Saito decided to wait for her to tell him, wondering what he would do when whatever big secret was out.

***

Monsieur was gone when she woke up, but Corinne knew he returned home for her. Instead of inside the closet, she was back in her room, on a hurriedly laid out futon. It must be late morning already, judging from the bright sunlight that streamed in through the windows, and the busy, noisy crowd down on the streets. Corinne sat for a while in silent thought, trying to remember something that slipped her mind. In turn, she looked at all the things in the room – the calligraphy scroll hanging in a niche, the arrangement of autumn flowers, the short katana glistening on its stand, the low writing table with its ink stone, brush, and holder, the modern calendar that looked so out of place...

The calendar.

It was the day Professor Stradtburg was due from New York after a recent medical talk in London. In his last letter, the elderly professor told her about having been invited to lecture in Japan on the third of October. The German embassy had processed his papers and the Japanese government was expecting him on the last day of September. He would meet her then.

She sprang up suddenly, rushing out of the house in an anxious hurry. There were things she had to talk to the professor about. She wanted to ask him about the discolorations, hoping that he might offer some comfort. They were all over her, especially where there had been unpleasant contact with any particularly solid object, and before the end of two weeks' time, she was black and blue. But Monsieur should not know, so she tried hiding them. The rehearsal costume with its calf-length skirt and arm-exposing top were discarded in favour of kimonos, which offered more coverage. Even her hands were always hidden in the butterfly sleeves so that they might be spared the ugly fate. It was all pure hell. Little by little, she withdrew back into her shell.

Corinne ran a long way to the pier, just barely making it in time. The plank had just been lowered and the passengers were trooping towards the harbour when she arrived. A carriage of the German embassy rolled to a stop by the wooden landing, obviously awaiting the Professor's arrival. She drew as close as she dared, avoiding the throngs of people shoving their way past each other. The area was swarming with police officers, but the thought of being recognized was lost on her. She thought only of meeting the Professor, of hearing about the fruits of his studies.

"Miss Montaigne!"

She turned at the voice and instantly recognized the red-faced old man making towards her. The mix of anxiety and excitement in her intensified as they exchanged cordial greetings, she wondering when they would speak of the topic both dreaded and yet anticipated. The Professor handed her into the carriage and climbed up right after.

"I have a feeling you did not receive my correspondences," he began, leaning back as the vehicle lurched forward. "And my gut tells me that not all is well. What has happened, Corinne?"

He now sounded more grandfatherly and less like the curt, brilliant doctor people knew him as. "I ran away, Professor," she confessed, head bowed. "I did not want anyone to know."

"So what of you now?"

"A lieutenant of the police has taken me in – Lt. Fujita, the one who found me the first night I ran away. Madame has alerted the police, but I continue to hide. Clara and I met some days back, but she does not know where I live now."

The elderly man pushed up his spectacles. "And are these the only things troubling you?"

"No." A hand rested uncomfortably on the hem of her kimono sleeve. "It's…" she slowly drew up the cotton covering. "It's this…"

The professor examined her arm. "This is the only one, I hope?"

Corinne shook her head. "I bruise at the slightest force…" she withdrew her arm. "You have found something out from your travels, haven't you, sir?"

"Yes; yes, I have," he replied distractedly, "but they will not be very pleasant for you." Drawing himself up straighter, the ancient professor met her eyes. "Dear girl, the Freiburg doctors have pronounced it an ailment of the blood. Six months is all that is left of your future."

It took a while to sink in, and when it finally did, Corinne felt her mouth dry up, and her heart stop beating. "Am I going to die, Professor?"

"Everyone dies once in their lives."

"Yes, but," her hands trembled under his, and her voice was barely above a whisper, "in half a year?"

***

It was difficult to attribute her listlessness to the way he scared off her suitors, just as it seemed improbable to conclude that occasional excesses of mirth were largely due to shopping trips with Himura. Saito had read somewhere the philosophy that women were complex creatures, and was inclined to believe that they held right for all ages of that particular sex. Just when he thought the housework would do itself, he found himself washing clothes again, Corinne just giving him a serene smile. It drove him crazy to repeat over to himself that he could not understand her, and was in conclusion enslaved to her many whims and frequent mood swings.

Staking out was the only way he could gather information with the least trouble and suspicion, and it became the method he adopted. Even if he wasn't careful enough and Battousai found out somehow, he knew that the redhead would think it none of his business. Theoretically, that plan was secure. He would have to volunteer for more shifts, but decided that his over-easy superior would only think him hungry for promotion. He snorted at the latter thought – preposterous.

The Kamiya dojo, unguarded, was not difficult to watch, especially since he did not have to pretend to be a policeman doing his duty. In fact, the most communicative things he had to watch out for were the small children allowed to run loose on the streets; and _they_ did not care to approach within a five-mile radius of him.

He had pretended to leave after dropping Corinne off, but like an anxious mother distrustful of the babysitters, turned right back and hid himself as soon as he had rounded the corner. Time dragged on so inexplicably long and tedious that Saito was ready to admit how foolish he had been to waste a good many hours trying to melt into the walls. However, his patience was rewarded when about noon, Corinne ran out of the dojo.

Saito followed her through the maze of downtown Kyoto. Corinne was weaving in and out of the crowd so quickly that it was difficult to keep track of her. Finally, Saito saw her running towards the foreign settlement near the dock, and was about to follow when a carriage sped right though the middle of the street. A wave of pedestrians scurried to the sidewalk, and Corinne disappeared from view.

Overhead, thunder rumbled, and a few drops of big, fat rain splattered onto the round. Saito groaned. It had been a very, very bad day.

***

The streets were almost deserted and the few people who remained curiously peeked at the strange young lady who braved the downpour for a leisurely walk. Corinne kept close to the shops, window-shopping as she thought about how she could apologize to Clara without betraying herself. An old man scuttled out of his knick-knack shop upon seeing her, and excitedly began to point out all sorts of little things a girl might be persuaded to buy. She wanted to tell him she had no money, none that he would like to take, anyway, for they were all French coins. Why exactly she still carried them she did not know, and reasoned that perhaps they worked like a sort of charm.

She took out a few silver coins to try and explain when a small boy came barrelling out of an alley towards her. They collided, and the silver pieces spilled onto the display table. The bedraggled child examined one, saw that it was not useful money, and contemptuously threw it to the ground before running away.

"Ojousan," the old man was excitedly tugging at her sleeve. He had cupped the coins in his hands and was flailing an arm at his goods. Corinne wondered what he wanted, and then understood that he wanted her to pick a souvenir in exchange for her coins. She thought it a rather unfair trade and refused, but the old man would not be persuaded otherwise...

She stood thinking for a minute, wondering what the objects were. They were pretty, she admitted, but it was near impossible to make out what they were. Suddenly, a gloved hand reached out to take a small, lacquered box. The hand's owner thanked the shopkeeper, and then started to leave, tugging her along.

"Sir," Corinne began, bewilderment making her indifferent to whether he would understand her. "I appreciate your help, but I really must be returning to my friends now."

They stopped walking. "I'm glad to hear that, Mlle. Montaigne. We have all been wondering where you could have possibly disappeared to." The voice belonged to a young man, and he let out a low laugh. 'It's time to go home now."

She snatched her hand away, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. "What are you doing here, Edouard? Madame will be furious!"

"All the more will she be with you," His eyes twinkled. "How long have you been gone? One…two weeks? She will not wait forever for you, Corinne. You must see Fleur now – so beautiful, so much more beloved than you once were."

"If you're trying to anger me—"

"I'm succeeding, aren't I?" He stripped off his glove and grabbed her hand. "Stop this foolishness now," he hissed. "If you return, forgiveness might yet be granted. Don't throw away your career. What has happened to you, playing house with a lieutenant of the police? I know all about it."

"Who told you about Monsieur? What else do you know?" She demanded angrily. They had retreated into a dark alley, away from curious onlookers.

"More than you may think."

"You're lying!"

"Perhaps not; and perhaps I know even more…" He slammed his free hand into the opposite wall, cornering her. Edouard leaned in so close that she felt his breath on her neck.

"I don't know how I succumbed to your charms," she muttered through gritted teeth. "You're perfectly repulsive!"

"And you, mademoiselle," he smiled wickedly, brushing her hair with his lips, "are perfectly naïve."

"Let me go, Edouard."

"I must bring you back where you belong."

Corinne shoved, but he was too strong for her. "I will scream if you do not let me go this instant!"

"Try."

She leaned her head against the cold wall and tried to block out the sight of his face. The rain grew heavier now, and she was soaked through. She did not mean to leave the dojo for so long. Doubtless M Himura and the others would discover her gone. And pretty soon, Monsieur would arrive to pick her up, but she wouldn't be there.

Corinne screamed. Edouard laughed as her voice drowned in the heavy downpour. The streets were almost deserted. Nobody would hear her. Not in the god-forsaken place she was in, anyway.

It was growing cold. The rain seeped through her kimono, which stuck to her skin. Corinne shivered. A dull pain had begun to throb near her stomach where she and the little boy had collided when the latter was trying to rob her. It was ridiculous that those worthless coins should have caused her so much trouble in one day alone. She fell forward, leaning onto Edouard for support.

"What's the matter with you?" He demanded.

She shook her head. No one must know that the pain was so horrible, as if someone had reached into her and wrung out her abdomen. The world began to spin as nausea filled her, but just as she thought she was going to pass out, she thought she heard footsteps running towards the alley. Monsieur's voice was familiar, calling out a gruff question, his arms encircling her, freeing her from the claustrophobic little space Edouard imprisoned her in.

"Corinne..."

She saw Edouard through a veil of hazy mist, looking angry that a stranger had yanked his prey right away from himself. "You're such a demon, Edouard..." she whispered weakly.

He smirked. "Yes; but a handsome demon. Remember how you loved me once, Corinne."

"Never again."

"Human emotions," he said, putting the puzzle box into her trembling hands, "are at best frustrating. But just like this toy, they are relatively simple once unlocked. Remember what I told you: no one can hold out forever."

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**A/N: So the secret's out! Unfortunately, Saito doesn't do much in this chapter. He kind of seems like a side character, now that I look at it again. But that's all right. At least now the whole business is cleared up. I'll try to give him more important roles in succeeding chappies, though. **

**What else? Oh! Thank you again to those who took the time to review. I tried my best to respond to every review...although some of the messages were pretty short. xp Once again, thank you. I hope all you guys enjoyed this installment. Please continue to let me know your opinions!**

**Love,**

**Tibbits...**

**PS. I admit. This chapter was not beta'd. Since it's a re-write, I basically just cut and pasted some parts from the old chapters. Plus, I am feeling kind of lazy. I'm trying to meet a deadline that's near impossible to meet, and I've done nothing but brew plots and write and erase and start over and write again. And midterms weren't a party, either. So yeah. If there are any typos, please bear with me.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Speculating why she was in the alley flew out of Saito's mind as he pushed past the crowd to get to Dr. Gensai's. He was soaking wet: he and the cold bundle in his arms. It no longer mattered if the cold rain pelted down in sheets, or if he had to force his way through the crowd rushing to get home. Every time he looked, the conviction that Corinne was dying just grew stronger and stronger. He espied death, smelled its foul breath almost as distinctly as if he was the third captain of the Shinsengumi again, slicing his way through living bodies. Yet Saito told himself that the girl would not die; that if she survived, he would continue to take care of her, give her everything she wanted, and even do anything she asked him to.

Mud splattered onto the hem of his trousers as he splashed into puddles. They were nearing the clinic now.

"Dr. Gensai!" he bellowed. "Dr. Gensai!"

One of the old doctor's granddaughters came running out, and then disappeared behind the wooden screens to fetch Megumi, who motioned towards a futon in a nearby room.

"What happened?" she demanded, unstopping a bottle of smelling salts.

Saito slowly got down on his knees across her, eyes fixed on the closed ones before him. Megumi momentarily glanced at him before returning to her patient.

"Bruises," the dazed officer slowly replied after a while. "...all over. I don't know why. She has been avoiding housework lately…and acting secretive too. I suppose she doesn't want anyone to know."

"Have you suspected anything before this?"

"Not particularly." He paused. "Where is Dr. Gensai?"

"He had something to attend to. We are getting more and more emergency patients." Megumi pressed her palms onto her temples. "Saito-san, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to wait outside for a while. Please dry off and make yourself comfortable. I will see you about Corinne-chan in a minute."

Saito murmured his thanks, quietly slipping out to do as he was bid. When the doors slid shut, Yumi timidly ventured out from behind a post. "Corinne-neesan," the little girl whispered, " she will be all right, won't she?"

He patted the top of the child's head and tried to smile comfortingly. "Let's hope so."

The child was appeased and, nodding her thanks, ran off towards the living quarters. Saito was shown into a separate room where a maid had laid out towels and a fresh robe. Several futon were unrolled on the mats, blankets turned down. Incense burned in a corner, and a diffusing spray sat on a shelf together with other medical paraphernalia. As his eyes roved around the spacious room, his thoughts turned to Corinne, and he wondered if she really will be all right.

The promised summons soon came after he changed into a light kimono. Surveying him, Megumi nodded, leading him back into the first chamber.

"You don't suffer any illnesses, I hope; not even a cold?" She shot, barely glancing at him.

"No." Saito succumbed as he was forcibly, and a little carelessly, pushed down beside Corinne's futon, at a loss as to what Megumi would next attempt.

"Good. Roll up your sleeve and hold your arm out." She ordered. He jerked a little upon being shown a "new medical apparatus from the west;" and had the pleasure of seeing a woman smirk at him.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" He asked when she unflinchingly pierced his arm with a rather thick, open-ended needle. He felt the blood rush from his veins into the clear glass container. A second needle was attached to Corinne's arm.

"Your charge," Megumi replied, "is a very sick girl. She needs blood right now, and will die if left deficient. See these?" She lightly touched a discoloration. "They're signs of haemorrhage." He shifted to a more comfortable position, and received a nasty glare. "If you'll stop fidgeting, we'll get this container filled up in no time, and then you may go to sleep. Don't think of sitting up and waiting for her to wake up, unless you want me to force you into dreamland."

Saito bit back a sharp retort, seeing that Megumi actually looked capable of carrying out her threat. Instead, he mentally noted that modern women have become feistier than suited his taste.

When she pointed to a nearby futon, he was too dazed to argue, and quietly lay down. When she turned her back, he stole a glimpse at the futon beside his, feeling vaguely thankful that she was at least as keen as he when it came to saving Corinne.

The rain still pounded when he awoke. Megumi was seated by the door, nodding off once in a while. He realized that she must have been there the entire night, watching over them. She stirred when he sat up, and a small smile spread across her tired face.

"Dr. Gensai has seen her," she quietly informed him, getting up to lay a hand on Corinne's forehead. "She's stable for now, and will be up any minute. She'll probably have to stay for a few more days before you can bring her back home. When you do, remember that she's still frail. And...Saito-san, please take very good care of her." The last part came out as a sigh, sounding more like a personal rather than a professional plea.

Saito knew that that was one thing he didn't have to be told to do. "Anything else I need to know?" He looked over Megumi's shoulder at the girl's sleeping form.

"Her friends would appreciate seeing her. Corinne-chan has not much longer."

***

Fear was the very first thing Corinne felt when she woke up and saw Monsieur seated by her futon, slowly flexing his arm. He smiled softly when he saw her observing him, his eyes holding a strange new sad look.

"Good morning!" she grinned, ignoring the pounding rain outside. "Monsieur has slept well I –"

She stopped mid-sentence. His hand was resting on her arm, exactly on top of a bruise. Corinne tried to draw back, but Monsieur grasped her yukata sleeve.

"Please –"

He slid it back. She turned away. There was a question in his expression, and painful solicitude in his touch. She didn't want to face him...didn't want to admit that once again, she had brought trouble where it was not needed. He let her go, and she hid her face on drawn knees. Neither moved until Mlle Megumi entered with a tray. The bitter smell of herbs filled the room. Corinne hugged herself tighter. Mademoiselle spoke to Monsieur, and then left with a sigh.

Corinne closed her eyes against the stillness. A few minutes passed before she felt Monsieur tap her lightly. He placed something atop her blanket, and, curious, she looked up. It was a silly drawing of himself, with a big goofy grin. She giggled. Monsieur gave her a long sideways glance and smiled himself. Taking his pen, Corinne drew another of herself beside his doodle, with an equally broad grin.

Seeing that she was feeling better, Monsieur nudged the tray closer towards her. Corinne's smile faded, and she shook her head. Monsieur frowned. Once again, she turned to the scrap piece of paper, quickly sketching a grave. She pointed first at herself, then at the new drawing. He shook his head again, touched her bandaged arm, and glanced at the tray.

"You don't understand!" She cried, wrenching her arm away. "No medicine in the world can cure me! I'm going to die in half a year! " She buried her face in her hands and began to sob, but Monsieur unexpectedly drew her into an embrace. His body was tense, as if he would rather be doing anything else that comforting her. But he stayed. Like he knew exactly how she felt...exactly what was going on... Corinne slowly hugged him right back, savouring the human warmth. As long as he held her, the wind seemed so far away; and as long as he spoke, she believed she would live.

***

As the small body relaxed under his touch, Saito drew her closer. She was still sobbing, but the crying had abated somewhat. He wanted to talk to her, but they would just end up misunderstanding each other again.

"I wish I knew how I could help," he sighed. She looked up upon hearing his voice. "I've heard about you from the police reports. Everybody says you're the favourite. It must feel strange to be so sick and away from your friends, especially since I don't know how to take care of you."

Burrowing into his coat, Corinne put her hands in his. She trusted him. For a minute, Saito considered sending her back to the troupe, certain that she had no idea what she was getting herself into. Then she hugged him tighter and he understood. She didn't want to go back. Not just yet.

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**A/N: I got the idea of what old-time blood bags would have looked like from "Dracula", the one starring Winona Ryder? Yes, that one. I too am wondering how the patients survived a mismatched transfusion since that would have caused leukaemia (right?) or aggravated some other blood disease. In this case, for the sake of simplicity, let us assume that Saito is a match. **

**This chapter's pretty short...it's only three pages. I wanted to add more, but it would have gotten really long. PLUS, I think this one's ended on just the right note. I hope you guys liked it. **

**Sorry for the really late update. I've been really busy the past month...or two. But now that it's sem break, I can get to work faster. BTW, thanks to all those who added this story to their alerts/favourites list. Thank you thank you! Please review. X)**

**Love, **

**Tibbits**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Can I have Saito? That's something I asked the creator a long time ago. He said "no"... **

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Nearly two months have passed since she ran away; a week since she left Dr. Gensai's. The occasional headaches now came more frequently after that, but since they only came at Corinne was ready when Monsieur wanted to go back to their normal routine.

Her friends at the dojo were initially very careful around her. Doubtless they had heard about her little episode. Corinne hoped Dr. Gensai and Mlle Megumi hadn't told them about her impending appointment with the Grim Reaper. Nevertheless, it took a while before they realized that she did not have to be watched at every minute; nor did she need everything done for her. She soon fell into playing with the girls again, helping M Himura in the kitchen, and even giving Yahiko a hand dusting the dojo. Sometimes, she snuck up behind M Sagara and followed him around. Nothing much went on during his typical day, so when he left for a leisurely stroll around town, Corinne jumped at the chance to tail him, keeping a good fifteen paces behind. She hadn't gotten very far from the dojo when somebody beckoned to her from a side street.

"Afraid of yourself now?" The second person grinned when she paused for a second, closer look.

"Of myself?"

"Ditto."

"What are you doing here? And when did I get a double?"

The second her shrugged. "I've been here all along, but I only showed up now to help you remember certain thing. Like that time when you first learned to dance. You refused to wear anything but your ballerina's dress. Where is it now?"

"I don't know."

"You don't want to remember. That's all right. I can do that for you. That's what I'm here for – to help you remember things you don't want to think about. I could even remember Maman's last words if you'd rather not do it yourself."

"You're not real."

"I am. As real as opening night. It's in fourteen days, by the way." The other her began skipping down the stone steps. Corinne raced after her.

"Just who are you?"

The second girl paused at the bottom step. "My name is Corinne," she replied, turning to look at her, "just like yours." Waving, she faded into thin air.

"Wait!" Corinne ran down the steps. "There's something I want to know! Corinne!"

"Mademoiselle."

She whipped around in surprise. "Clara!"

"Were you calling for yourself?"

"No," she exhaled, pressing a hand to her flushed face. "No, I was not."

"Then you're all right?"

"I'm fine." Taking a deep breath, she began the walk back to the dojo. "Have a good day," she mumbled half-heartedly, passing right by her friend.

"Mademoiselle, I – I did not tell about...meeting you."

She stopped. "Thank you. You have always been indulgent towards me."

"Then...you forgive me?" Clara turned, but Corinne did not face her.

"We never quarrelled, Clara. There is no need for this forgiveness business."

"You left us Mademoiselle! Does that not mean anything?"

"It has nothing to do with you, at the very least."

"Then why did you leave?"

"As I've said: to protect you all!" Corinne crushed her kimono sleeves in her hands. "Do not ask me what from, because I cannot answer you that."

"But you will return, won't you? Corinne?"

"Maybe...maybe not."

"Does that then mean our friendship is over?"

"No!" She finally spun around. "You're my best friend!"

"Then tell me where I may go to see you."

Hesitating at first, Corinne finally replied, "We can meet here everyday, at the same time. I will be here tomorrow. I promise."

***

Took a long drag of his cigarette, Saito muffled the escaping yawn. He was still staring at the stack of paperwork he had managed to cut in half when the police captain entered with a flyer. It fluttered onto his desk, settling above the report he was signing. The wolf glared.

"We need your men for the upcoming program, Fujita," the older man said, detachedly chewing a wad of gum.

"I thought the lead was still missing," Saito muttered, momentarily flicking his eyes at the poster printed with the prominent pictures of Corrine and the blonde alley boy.

"That's their problem. We're only here to take orders."

"It's going to be on my free day," he scowled. He had planned to take Corinne to Dr. Gensai again on that day.

"His Majesty will be in the audience."

The lieutenant closed his eyes. That meant the end of the discussion. "Fine," he muttered, "I'll be there."

"Good." The captain was turning to leave when he caught Saito at his cigarette again. "I've heard say that the pretty ladies do not like tobacco smoke," he winked, tossing his subordinate a packet of gum. "This is better."

"Thank you sir," the other mumbled to his chief's back, tossing the gum into the rubbish bin as soon as the door closed. Just as rashly, he stuck the flyer in his pocket, making a mental note to tack it up next to the calendar.

--

A short scuffle with a violent gang of robbers obliged Saito to help throw them behind bars, and leave off his paperwork. It was late when he signed the last report, muttering silent curses at his "pig-headed, thick-skulled men" as he left for the dojo. Corinne was waiting for him outside, running to latch onto his arm. He smiled down at her, leading the way through a shortcut to Dr. Gensai's.

"Grandpa!" the littlest granddaughter – Saito could never remember her name – shrieked when she saw them, dashing inside to fetch the old doctor. "Grandpa, the scary officer's here!" he heard her voice echo down the hall.

"...he's Lieutenant Fujita, Suzi," Dr. Gensai chuckled, hobbling to the door. "What can I do for you officer?"

"We're here to pick up the medicine, as Megumi-san said."

"Oh, yes... Why don't you and Corinne-chan come inside for a while? I'll have her medicine ready in a minute."

"Yay!" Suzi cried happily, pulling the older girl down the hall. "Come play, onee-chan!" They disappeared into an open room, the old doctor and Saito following after them.

"How has Corinne-chan been, officer?"

"Huh? Oh...all right, I suppose." He frowned. "She doesn't try to say anything."

"Does she sleep well?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Saito sat down across him, watching as the doctor ground herbs together. "Megumi-san said something the last time."

"I'm sorry, but she was probably right about it."

"Then the medicine –"

"It's only to alleviate the pain a little."

"Pain?" Saito repeated confusedly. "Corinne's not in pain."

Dr. Gensai momentarily met his eyes. "There are things you don't know, officer, because she doesn't show them to you."

The said girl was batting a paper ball back and forth with Suzi, and laughing with the child, but one hand was kept tightly clenched on her lap. So it was true. Then, while Suzi was busy inflating the ball, Corinne pressed a hand to her forehead. Saito moved to go to her, but just as quickly, she took a deep breath, smiled, and was ready to play again. Dr. Gensai, also observing them, sighed and returned to his herbs.

--

Trying very hard not to remember that he was in a women's store, the ex-wolf of Mibu glared at the pedestrians outside the shop window while a saleslady rang up his purchases. She kept giving him odd glances, but one flick of his eyes sent her bobbing her beribboned head to fumble with the delicate tissue wrapping.

"Sir..." the girl whispered moments later, edging the box towards her irate customer. "Sir, your package is ready."

A corner of Saito's mouth twitched in part fear, part distaste as he scrutinized the pasty pink thing, topped by a ball of fluffy satin trimming. Rumbling a "thanks" under his breath, he gingerly picked up The Thing, deliberating for a moment whether he should step outside. When he finally did, he was careful to keep his eyes trained straight ahead.

A second saleslady sidled up to the counter, watching Saito with her friend. "Ne, Mimiko, that gentleman sure carries his box funny, like it was a stack of books bundled with twine or something. He'll ruin the pompom you made."

"He could hold it like a bomb for all I care," Mimiko shuddered. "And on a side note, I don't think he was too happy about the pompom."

The other girl turned to grin at an empty niche high up one shelf. "At least he has good taste."

Saito sneezed, mumbling apologies when a few passers-by gave him and his box strange looks. "Someone must be talking about me," he growled, walking faster to escape the curious stares. His burden felt heavier than he had expected. Then again, he rationalized, women always did have strange tastes. Nevertheless, he was smiling as he made towards the Kamiya dojo...until he saw Sanosuke at the gate. Corinne was there too, and while he was too far away to hear Sano's words, Saito clearly saw that the younger man was offering his precious girl something. Squinting, he peered at the inscription on the jar. Ah, sake. Sake!?

"Hold it right there!" he barked, shooting forward to knock the alcohol right into Sanosuke's face.

"What?" the other spluttered, recovering from the blow that sent him stumbling backwards. "What kind of gay man are you to use such a bitch move anyway?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Saito replied smoothly, taking Corinne's hand and protectively stepping in front of her. "If you'll excuse us –"

"I thought you weren't supposed to show Corinne your gatotsu!"

Hearing her name, the girl peered at them curiously. Saito's eyes narrowed into slits. "Shut it Sagara."

"Oh, I forgot, the whole world isn't supposed to know that you used to be –" Sanosuke cut himself off, rolling his eyes at the sight of the older man's nearly-bared fangs. "Fine, fine. You don't have to be so uptight about it." He grinned at Corinne, who was still hiding behind Saito's back. "Monsieur can be such a meanie, huh, Corinne-chan?"

She and Saito glanced at each other. The latter sighed and gently tugged her along. "Come on, Corinne, or you might catch his bug and turn into an idiot."

Shrugging, Corinne turned for a final wave before jogging to catch up with Saito.

"You should learn a few manners from Corinne-chan you big bully!" Sano called to Saito's retreating figure. The other simply brushed him off with an indifferent hand.

All the way home, the wolf was immersed in replays of the sake scene, trying to convince himself that the damage had not been done. He checked on Corinne – walk: straight, look: sober. Still he internally squirmed, already letting his mind run wild with paintings of daytime drinking bouts. He didn't dare trust Himura's nor Kaoru's guidance, seeing that both were most definitely not immune to alcohol. That only left Sano... He growled, longing to ask Corinne herself, but not having the slightest idea how. He would never know, unless...

He must have made an odd sight as he leaned down to try to inconspicuously sniff the air around her for alcohol, and because Corinne had a knack for catching him in the act, the wolf was forced to grind out several crooked smiles in response to her questioning frowns.

By the time he slammed the house door behind them, Saito was giddy with curiosity. On the pretext of removing his shoes, he bent close to Corinne while she arranged _her_ shoes, and finally took one long whiff. And then another, because he couldn't quite believe he had such a creative imagination. A slow grin spread across his face as he patted her head, swinging the girly pink box all the way upstairs.

"One good girl deserves a good deed," he said to himself, sneaking the box into Corinne's room and noticing that sissy pink wasn't so bad when it looked like diluted red...

For the second time that day, the smile vaporized from his face. Saito poked at the giant satin ribbon ball. It stood for a fraction of a second before falling flat on its hundreds of creases again.

Corinne was coming up the stairs.

Desperate, he cupped the edges of the pompom, slapped them together, and rubbed vigorously. Some of the loops fell out, and the entire thing sat utterly dishevelled atop the box.

She was nearly there...

Swearing quietly, Saito stuffed the free ends back in place, slipping out the door just as Corinne was about to open it. Stepping aside, he motioned for her to go right in. She hesitated, looking between him and her room. Saito repeated the gesture, waggling his eyebrows for extra emphasis. At last, she relented. He waited at the head of the stairs.

Was that a muffled chuckle? After that, there was nothing for a few minutes but the soft rustling of paper. Then he heard the delighted squeal and smirked in self-satisfaction. Corinne barrelled out of her room to throw herself at him, gasping her gratitude between giggling fits. Then even before he could begin to form a reply, she jumped up and ran back inside. With much sniggering and shaking of the head, Saito made his way downstairs, managing to make himself a cup of tea before Corinne flew into the kitchen wearing her new dress. It wasn't exactly how he imagined the pink scraps of fabric would look together, but it fit her nicely. Upon gaining his nod of approval, Corinne smothered him in a cloud of ruffles and lace, surprised when her hug was returned almost automatically. But, as Saito himself soon discovered, he was finding it much easier to show some measly bit of affection for a particular one person. Hugs still took a little bit of work, but maybe, just maybe, they weren't so bad after all.

KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

A/N: Yes, it's a breather from all the drama. But don't be fooled. I'll be injecting little important bits and pieces between the "moments" in the succeeding chapters. I'm still not too sure about this one turn, but (I do my other half proud) I'll cross the bridge when I get there.

**Whew! I don't know why, but this has taken a little bit to work. I didn't realize it would be so difficult to try and keep Saito in character while simultaneously showing a new, softer side of him. So far, I think I've done enough justice to his person, but lately, I'm not too sure. Ah, well. I guess "soft" just isn't a word used to describe the wolf, huh? -.-**

**One more thing! Please, please review. IcheckedMyTrafficAndIKnowYouGuysAreReadingSoPleaseReview!!! *gasp* gasp***

**School just started again, by the way. Yep. Sucks.**

**Love,**

**Tibbits.**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Do we have to do this at every chapter? Why??? Everyone knows we, poor writers, don't own a scrap of RK... which is really sad, by the way...**

* * *

The air was suddenly so thick it was hard to breathe. Slipping out of Monsieur's grasp, Corinne dashed outside. She tried to contain the painful coughing, but it just couldn't seem to stop. She was gasping, and the world was slowly spinning into darkness. Then she coughed again, and this time felt warm liquid splatter onto the hand she held over her mouth. Her mind cried for her body to stop, but it wouldn't listen. More and more of the red blood dripped, staining her clothes.

Monsieur was demanding whether she was all right. He asked that question so many times now; she had come to understand it.

"Yes," she whispered, but as he forced her to look at him, the dojo garden just tilted into an empty blackness.

--

_The soft tinkle of the music box woke her up, just as it had so many years ago. Corinne remembered asking for her mother then, but now she simply lay still, staring at the infinitesimal darkness around her. What had happened again? The scenes from earlier that day played themselves out before her like a magical phantasmagoria. _

_She remembered feeling tired all day, but rather than add to Monsieur's worries, she had pretended to be all right, going as far as convincing herself that she would be, later on. But then..._

_There was Clara, accompanying her and M Himura to the market. He was going to teach her how to make supper. That got her excited enough. It was time she learned a little bit about housekeeping, having stayed with Monsieur Fujita for so long already. He probably wouldn't have let her anywhere the stove, but that did not quench her determination to do something for him in return for his kindness. Clara was worried that she would burn the kitchen, but Corinne laughed her worries off._

_And then...what happened again?_

"_You are driving yourself mad, don't you know?"_

_Corinne got up to find the source of the laughing voice. It was herself. "You again."_

"_Are not you glad to see yourself?"_

"_In here, I am not."_

"_What a pity." The other her hopped up from the chair she had been sitting on. "Why don't I help you remember something you've never noticed?"_

"_I am insane," Corinne sighed. The blackness before them flashed a shop window. _

"_Do you recognize this, per chance?"_

_It was an art dealer's shop she had passed by while waiting for M Himura to finish his transactions with the vegetable seller. "I do."_

_The dream zeroed in on one particular painting displayed prominently at the window. "What about this?"_

"_The –" Corinne cut herself off, and turned to her double with wide eyes. "Why is it here? The last time I saw that, it was in Paris."_

"_Monsieur Degas found a buyer for his painting, obviously," the second girl shrugged, unimpressed. "Remember Monsieur Degas?"_

"_Of course." He was a gentle man who painted just about anything, but most especially, dancers. He liked to go to the opera hall and watch their company rehearse. Most of the time, his nose was buried behind his canvas. And one day he stopped her on her way backstage after a rehearsal, to show her the painting he had just finished. It had taken him days to complete, but..._

"The figures seem rather hazy," she had commented.

"It is the way of impressionism, petite Mademoiselle."

"Impressionism?"

"Yes. It captures vivid life."

Corinne stared hard at the painting. Little by little, she made out the central figure. It was the likeness of herself, done in swift strokes of cream and warm brown. She smiled at the painter. "I suppose it does."

"_Doesn't it?" she whispered, her eyes never leaving the smiling face now recreated in a haze of illusion. That version of her seemed like it was painted ages ago. Monsieur Degas would have been appalled were he to know of her deterioration. _

"_It isn't us, is it?"_

_She turned to the second girl. "Us?"_

"_Yes," the other sighed, her arms crossed in tight insecurity. "That's not us anymore. It once was; but the girl in the painting had life in her, whereas we...only have death to look forward to now."_

_Her throat constricted with a rising sob. Death. She had called him many names: the Grim Reaper, the man in black, the nightshade, Hades... But she had never really called him by his real name. Death. Maybe that was because it sounded so real. She could think of the man in black as a gentleman, perhaps, who would lull her into the other world, but Death was just...well, Death. And he was the man without a face, who carried the blade that severed souls from their mortal bodies. He was something to be feared. _

"_I am still the same," she insisted, her statement carrying more force than necessary. _

_The second Corinne looked at her sadly. "Both you and I know that the smile of the girl in the painting was lost a very, very long time ago."_

***

"Monsieur..."

"Ssh." Saito's hand was cold against her hot forehead, gently stroking back her hair. Corinne saw Megumi prepping her medical torture instrument and tried to wriggle free. "You'll be fine," he whispered, although knowing that she wouldn't be for long. Once her body ate up his blood, he would need to give some more. There would be no end to the transfusions. At least, that was what Megumi said; and she knew best.

Corinne's collapse had come as a surprise to him. She was fine when they set out for the dojo that morning, and Kenshin had said the same thing. She had even wanted to help out. And then suddenly, here she was, worse than he had imagined possible. Megumi said her illness was advancing rapidly. She didn't want to say it, but Saito could read it in her face: Corinne might not last longer than the projected six months.

The incredible weight of the matter suddenly dumped itself onto him. He couldn't take of her – not adequately, anyway – even though he wanted to. They did not understand each other, and he might forget to be gentle sometimes. A swordsman could never be a nurse. Then again, he _had_ promised.

No. There had to be a limit to even the strongest promise he gave out.

"Where are you going?" Megumi asked the instant Saito swung on his jacket.

"I've got business to take care of."

"But Corinne-chan needs you. You're the only one who really understands her, Saito."

_No, because all this time, he might have been reading her wrong, after all. _He hesitated, but knelt down again. Corinne was watching him intently. "I'm not going to be gone for long. And I promise...when I come back, I'll bring something that will make you feel better. So be good in the meantime." He tried to smile, but it was difficult. She reached out to have her free hand held, but he faltered, fearing she just break under his touch. "Just wait for me, okay?"

She nodded, and he turned away. Megumi seemed to sense what he was about, and murmured a wish for him to be careful. He voice faded as the screen door shut behind him. He was about to light a cigarette, but remembering where he was going, slid it back into his pocket. Now, what was the name of that girl Yahiko said visited almost everyday? It sounded like... Clara. That was it. Well he was going to find her, and set the record straight once and for all.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys understood this chapter. It was kind of cut back and stuff, because I figured that writing it chronologically would have been boring. So most of the backgrounders were mostly narrated, to save time and...okay, I wanted to get to the main part. **

**Oh! I'm so sorry about taking so long to update the previous chapter. See, my browser suddenly got old, so I couldn't post new chapters and stuff. As you might have guessed, I'm back now (yes! finally!). We're moving close to the end, so STAY TUNED! **

**One more thing: do review. Please. Just tell me what you think of the story...whether positive or negative. I'd love to hear (I mean, read...) your comments. :)**

**Love,**

**Tibbits.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Here we go again... RK and all its characters do not belong to me. I am only a poor fic writer.**

****

"You're late."

Clara jumped at the sudden sound. She had just snuck into her room, hoping to change in time before she was missed at the rehearsals, and did not expect anybody there. The dim figure stepped out before the window, the setting sun shading the tired face. "Madame!" she squeaked.

"Where have you been? It is not like you to miss practise."

"I was held up by...business..."

"Do you mean...seeing Corinne? That sort of business?"

Clara faltered.

"Why did you not tell me?" her teacher demanded. "For weeks we worried about her, and there you were, knowing where she was all along."

"I just left her, Madame. She is well...and there is somebody who looks after her." Madame was not the type who burst out in anger, but Clara plainly sensed that the elder woman was about to give her something far worse than just scolding. She rushed on. "Mademoiselle told me she left because she wanted to protect us – "

"Pray tell me what we need protecting from."

"...she – she refused to say –"

"I will not stand for such nonsense! Where is she?"

Clara was beginning to stammer a reply when the door slammed open and Edouard burst in. "The officer is here! Corinne's guardian!" he added, looking at the confused face of his teacher. Madame immediately sprang into action. She grabbed Clara's hand and rushed down the stairs, dragging her along. Officer Fujita was waiting in the foyer. Clara was pushed forward.

"What...can I do for you, officer?"

He nodded once, breaking away from his intent observation of the teacher. "I apologize for keeping Corinne away from her friends. She wished it, although now I question the wisdom of my own actions." He sighed. "She is very sick, and I think it is only fair that the ones who best know her should at least be informed of it before she..."

"Mademoiselle is not sick," Clara shook her head. "Officer, you must be mistaken."

"Our doctors are giving her the best medical attention as we speak, but they also say that she will not last long."

She looked at him long and hard. "Please do not joke like this."

"I ask you to see her. I can bring you there."

"Clara, what is the officer saying?" The other woman cut him off, clutching the girl's arm in worry.

"He says..." Her eyes never left his, as if disbelieving the news she was about to break. "Mademoiselle...is very sick." For a split second, nobody said anything. Then Madame's whisper cut the silence.

"How ill is she?"

"The officer says she will not last." Clara flinched as her teacher struck her sharply across the face.

"You told me she was all right!"

"She was..."

"Ungrateful liar!"

"Officer Fujita asks that you see her."

"And so we will!" She had Edouard order the carriage. "You, on the other hand, will remain here. Forget even about being Corinne's maid, because when we return to Paris, you will be on your own."

The officer looked like he wanted to know what was happening, but did not deem it his business to ask. Instead, Clara mumbled that her teacher would go, and that, if he pleases, he should lead them. The coach arrived then, but before leaving, he handed her a pen and a piece of paper, asking if there was anything she wanted to tell her friend. She looked at him gratefully but shook her head.

"Please take very good care of her, officer. She is my best friend."

--

The rush of frantic footsteps clattered towards the dojo's living quarters just as Corinne was wondering what was taking Monsieur so long. In a minute, the shoji screens slammed open, and to her surprise, Madame scrambled into the room. Edouard reluctantly trailed along behind her. Corinne shot him an accusing glare, but he shrugged, flicking his head in Monsieur's direction. Mlle Megumi, who was waiting for the last drop of blood to be transfused, started at the teacher's hysterical entry.

"Darling girl, you did not even tell us you were ill..."

"Not ill, Madame. Sick," she murmured, smothered in her adoptive mother's embraces. "By the way, have you met Officer Fujita?" she asked brightly, in an effort to change the topic. "He took me in when I left the embassy, and is very kind..."

"He came to tell us about you," Edouard supplied sombrely.

Corinne's eyes immediately went to the door, where Monsieur stood watching them, looking – and probably feeling – out of place. Surrounded now by her people, Corinne knew she should feel safest, but somehow, it did not seem right to be with them. She was not comfortable with Madame's chagrin and Edouard's bitter pity, while in Monsieur's awkward tenderness she felt most at home.

"Are you going to take me back to the embassy?"

"Certainly , darling. We can care for you better there," Madame replied, completely missing the tremor in her voice. Corinne could not help thinking that Monsiuer would have noticed it. She looked his way again. He was still watching them, but did not seem inclined to approach.

She drew a shuddering breath. "M...may I be left alone for a while?"

The teacher hesitated, but at last stood and left with Edouard. Turning away, Corinne burst into tears.

***

Children were not really Saito's strong point. Even less, crying children. So he could not imagine what could possibly be wrong when Corinne began bawling and Megumi was waggling her eyebrows suggestively. Sighing, he reluctantly patted her back.

His plan was supposed to work out beautifully. In his mind's eye, the whole reunion would have been nothing but that touching, sobbing junk he had a particular distaste for. Instead, all he felt was cringing hesitation and a queer desire to be...kept away. At least, to him, Corinne must have felt that way towards her teacher and blond alley boy. And he couldn't understand why.

"Real smooth, Saito," Megumi observed from her post not three feet away.

"I thought you said it would be best if Corinne were to meet her friends," he growled.

"I did, didn't I?" The lady doctor laughed that high-pitched twitter that never failed to send heebie-jeebies skittering down his spine. She shook her head. "Maybe it's for the best after all."

"Then why won't she stop crying?"

The other got up, allowing her hair to veil a small smile. "I don't know. Maybe she wants a hug or something. It's not fun to be fussed over by everyone, you know." Tossing her head, she left the room. Saito could not help thinking that there was a mocking lilt in her tone. He looked at Corinne anyway. She did sort of look like she needed...

No. That was ridiculous. The poor thing was so frail he just might crush her or something. Then again...

Ever so slowly, the wolf's paw found its way around Corinne's shoulders, pulling her closer. Shuddering convulsively, she curled up in the warm hollow of his body and lay there, still except for the occasional sob. Saito gathered her to himself, gently rocking, grip around her possessively tightening. He may not have understood a single word exchanged between teacher and student, but he was almost sure they were going to take her away from him. Not that she was his to begin with. But in that split second he buried his face in her hair, he knew he was going to miss her.

And it was okay, because the people she was going to leave with were going to give her all the love and attention he couldn't. Yeah, it was okay.

Well, not entirely.

***

The embassy loomed bigger and bigger as the carriage rolled closer. The little prisoner inside tried to keep a cheerful countenance, but there was no denying the dismay she felt in being transported back to that old residence. While they sailed along on the foreign settlement's newly-paved roads, she could not help thinking of how the dusty dirt streets downtown afforded more pleasure. She wanted to walk, but Madame would hear nothing of it. Her pet should be pampered, the pettiest luxury afforded, so Corinne rumbled on by, staring out the window with both knuckles pressed on her cheeks. If she was with Monsieur...

Ah, now. It was not above an hour ago that she left him.

"Madame...?"

"Yes, child?"

"What will I be doing from now on?"

Madame put down her book. "Why, recuperating, of course."

That was one point her loving guardian had missed. Or refused to acknowledge, which was more probable. Corinne wanted to remind her that the disease was incurable, but thought better of it. Madame had gone sleepless for several nights, keeping vigil with Monsieur. The gentleman she did not worry about, but the dark circles under her teacher's eyes were very telling. It wouldn't cost very much to leave her to happier musings.

"How much longer will we remain in Japan?"

"For as long as a show is scheduled, the troupe will be here to perform."

"Then we do not leave for another week?"

"I suppose not." The teacher was returning to her book again, but it was difficult with Corinne practically bouncing off her seat. "Do be still, Cherie. You have just left the doctor's."

"May I visit with my friends while the rest of you rehearse over and over and over? I promise not to be too far away."

The carriage stopped at the front doors of the embassy then, and before Madame could give her reply, Corinne bounded out and into the house, where the rest of her companions were waiting. All at once, the buzz of gossip burst into a boisterous welcome. Somebody remarked, in a not-so-discreet voice, that the prodigal child had come back. But Corinne was not really listening. The other, more prominent part, was busy watching the figure scuttling about behind the wall of dancers.

"Clara –"

She was swallowed up in the crowd. When her friends broke away to get to rehearsals, that person was no longer there.

"Why don't you go on upstairs and rest?" Madame's voice was suddenly behind her, jolting Corinne from the wistfulness she stood in. "I'm sure you'd like to see your room again, and your books..."

"Yes; I would like that," she trudged up, lingering on the second floor landing until she heard the front door click locked. Madame had gone to the studio. Her back to the wall, Corinne looked up the remaining half of the carpeted stairs she had yet to climb. After a month of living with Monsieur, she fancied herself unused to such sumptuousness. Paintings in gilt frame, pictures on door panels, brilliant chandeliers...all those comforts felt so cold. Cold and...lonely. Slowly, she sought for her room. A maid was just leaving it, holding a bucket of firewood in her ash-soiled hands. The girl curtsied. Corinne looked up.

Silence met silence. Nodding, Clara was leaving when Corinne caught hold of her and pulled the girl back into the room, all the way to a waiting washbasin where she scrubbed her friend's hands until the grey soot rinsed off of them.

"Mademoiselle, you must not do this..."

In response, Corinne only flung the firewood towards the hearth, scattering dust and ash all over the pristine carpet. Clara moved to tidy the mess, but Corinne held her fast.

"I have to..."

"No!" She let go, and in a calmer voice went on, "Opening night is coming very soon. You must be there with the rest of them, rehearsing."

"I may never join them again, Mademoiselle."

"It was I who brought this punishment on you, was it not?"

"I brought it upon myself."

Corinne shook her head. "It was my fault. But you should not take the fall for me."

"Madame is never wrong."

"No; but she can misjudge. And in your case, that was precisely what she did." Their eyes met. "Can you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive."

"Then we are still friends."

"I am not permitted..."

Corinne suddenly laughed – laughed and hugged her friend. "Oh, Clara! Dear Clara! I am dying. They will let me make a friend out of anyone I choose! There is no need for this permission thing." Pulling away, she smiled at the other girl's stricken face. "Yes, I am dying. I suppose Monsieur has told you that much. But that is no matter, because I still have you as my best confidante, and above all, we will both have wonderful memories of this Japanese sojourn." Then she had Clara send for the maid, because it was so hard to keep a straight face while she flinched inwardly.

This whole dying business? It did matter.

**A/N: Thank you to all those who have been waiting for this chapter. Yes, we are SO nearing the end. I must apologize, though, for my laziness of late. I had the ending all done and stuff, but I wasn't quite sure what to do with this (and the subsequent) part. Admittedly, it was rather awkward to write. There are a few rough spots, but I hope they tied up whatever they were meant to tie up. Yeah, loose ends. I'm working on them. Hopefully, everything will be well and tidy by the next chapter so that we can move on the epilogue REAL FAST! **

**Thanks to everyone who added Into the Wolf's Den in their alerts, favourites, and stuff. It feels really good to know your work's appreciated. **

**Till next time!**

**Tibbits :)**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Why do we have to keep doing this? For Pete's sake, I'm nearing the end of the story...**

All of a sudden, his place felt so empty. Saitou was there to watch as Corinne slowly packed whatever little belongings she had. His gift was the last to go. She sat in the middle of the room he gave up for her, just holding the dress and staring out the window. Down below, a servant waited outside the front doors. Impatient whinnies floated up through the second floor storey window, and finally, she folded up the dress.

He tried to maintain his characteristic stoic expression, but it was difficult when his little housemate dragged her feet, obviously loathing to go. And neither did he want her to go. Then the screen door shut and they were both alone at the top of the stairwell. Saitou knew she was near tears when she ducked into a bow and just stood frozen. Automatically, his hand went to the top of her head. Corinne fell against him, burying her face in his coat.

It was probably the last time he would see her again. Slowly, Saitou pulled out the puzzle box in his pocket. He had kept it for so long he wasn't sure she still remembered it. He pressed it into her hands, anyway. When she drew back in surprise, he motioned for her to put down her things, and sat on the top step. She followed suit, huddling between him and the wooden banister.

The toy was not unlike the ones he saw the Aizu children play with during his Shinsen days, and he unlocked it after only one try, much to Corinne's amusement. Then, snapping it shut, he passed it to her, watching the inexperience fingers fumble with the pieces. At length, she gave up, and both sat in companionable silence. Saitou knew he was mission work, but he didn't mind. If for another moment he could make himself believe that she was there to stay, he would willingly give up the next million years of his life.

It surprised him to know that he was capable, to some degree, of human affection, never imagining the day when the touch of another warm being would excite anything but guarded tension. Instead, her being there, pressed against his sword arm, only made him want the queer, homey feeling to last.

He knew then that she had to go. He could not afford to get into a tussle over the rights to keep her. Gently, he squeezed her shoulder and stood, easily gathering up her meagre possessions. Understanding, Corinne followed him down the stairs.

The footman was there to load her things into the carriage, and soon enough, it was time for the inevitable goodbye. Although he heard the whispered farewell, Saitou was a little disappointed that she didn't really look at him. But as the carriage drove away, he decided it was better that way. He wouldn't have known whether to smile as she so liked to see him do, or to keep his deadpan look, as he felt more like doing at the moment.

He lit a cigarette, something he had not done since finding out that Corinne was sick. Watching the foreign, horse-drawn contraption wind its way towards the seaside embassy, he took the first drag, and then put it out. It just wasn't the same anymore.

***

Much of the week after homecoming was spent alone. Corinne had managed to get Clara's punishment retracted, so while her friend was busy with rehearsals, she moped in solitude.

"I don't see why Madame has to make you all rehearse so much. If you haven't gotten everything perfect by now, you probably never will," Corinne snapped one night after a particularly idle day. Across the room, Clara glanced up from her stitching and asked how her day went.

Sighing, Corinne flung herself back down onto the bed. She liked to share a room with Clara because then, they could stay up to talk, which was exactly what they were doing.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I've just been having a terribly lonely time."

Her friend grinned knowingly. "That's not it. You are only acting spoiled, so that Madame would be persuaded to let you out of the house."

"Touché." Rolling over onto her back, Corinne stared up at the frescoed ceiling. From her corner, the other girl wondered what M Fujita was doing, which earned her a puzzled look. "Why did you suddenly want to know?"

"I don't. But I know you are."

Corinne wriggled more comfortably under the down duvet. "He is probably doing the night rounds – "

"Ensuring the safety of the populace?"

"Most probably."

"I wonder why he does not make his rounds near here."

"Now there's a thought." Both girls knew that French guards patrolled the embassy. A local policeman would have only aroused suspicion. All the same, Corinne wished Monsieur would stop by.

When the clock in the hallway struck twelve, Clara finally put down her mending. "Anything you'd like before I blow out the candles?"

"I'd like Madame to allow me outside tomorrow," Corinne replied surly, scooting over to make room for her.

"That's unlikely. She did say you might watch the premiere, though."

"That doesn't count."

Sliding into bed, Clara snuffed out the light. Tomorrow, she had a very important errand to run.

***

Saitou was surprised to see somebody near his house. He would have thought the girl was waiting for a neighbour, but her jumping right up at the sight of him was enough to extinguish all doubt. Moving closer, he saw that it was Clara. Their last encounter had left him believing that she was in trouble; on the other hand, she might have gotten the slip, or else worked around it. He liked to think Corinne might have intervened on her behalf, and brought about the former.

"Can I talk to you about Mademoiselle?" she immediately asked when he was within earshot. Grunting an affirmative, he unlocked the door, holding it open as she ducked under his outstretched arm.

'What did you want to say?" It was one of the most awkward of situations, standing there at the entrance, neither attempting to enter the house proper.

"The premiere is tomorrow."

He was well aware of that – earlier that day, the police chief had just narrowly missed selecting him as one of the Royal Family's entourage – and waited for her to continue.

"If Fujita-san does not have plans, I was wondering if he would be willing to stop by the embassy tomorrow evening."

"What would I be doing there?"

She went on hurriedly. "Fujita-san is really all Ms. Corinne talks about, so I thought maybe she missed having you around..."

Saito blinked. The wily girl had struck home.

"...Maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't mind escorting her to the premiere?"

His superior would definitely find out about his hiding the girl... "No; I wouldn't mind at all."

When the big smile spread across Clara's face, he knew he had said exactly what she wanted him to. Even then, knowing that didn't annoy him one bit.

"Thank you!" she gasped, scrambling into a grateful bow, the smile firmly plastered on her face. "The carriage will be here by seven tomorrow night."

"Wonderful," he said flatly, but the tone didn't put her off. Just before she ran out the door, Clara stuck her head back in to remind him that it was all a secret. Saito just nodded, knowing for certain that the big "secret" between him and the foreign girl would be the next top gossip of the friendly neighbourhood women.

Strangely enough, he couldn't make himself care.

***

"What are you still doing here?" Corinne demanded, aghast, at her friend's madly grinning reflection on the dressing table mirror.

"Madame let me stay a while. I'm not needed until the second act, anyway."

"But I can take care of myself," she protested, delicately looping the final bow on the dress Monsieur had given to her. Her favourite now and forever, as Corinne had decided long ago.

"Then hurry." Clara was still smiling.

"What's so funny?" the other suspiciously asked. "It's not my hair, is it?"

"Oh, no."

"Then what –"

Finally, Clara couldn't take it anymore. "The carriage is waiting," she explained carelessly, rushing in to drag her friend from the room.

"There is no need to hurry. Jacques will wait. He always does."

"Somebody else will be impatient."

Corinne was too busy stumbling down the stairs behind Clara, and struggling to keep from tripping on the hem of her clothes to notice the visitor at the foyer. When she finally did, though, her eyes grew wide with disbelief.

"Monsieur!"

He smiled at her shock; and then, to her greater surprise, held out a hand to help her down the stairs. Wordlessly, Corinne let him. The next instant, all three of them – Monsieur, Clara, and she – were headed towards the theatre. Corinne felt like Cinderella, except that instead of evil stepsisters, all she had were fairy godmothers. Then Clara ran off towards the rear of the building, and it was just her and Monsieur, like before.

The biggest surprise was waiting at the front of the theatre, where all the rest of her friends were waiting. M Himura, Mlle Kamiya and Megumi, Yahiko, M Sagara, Dr. Gensai, and the little girls. Even an usher was there to take the little group to one of the reserved balconies.

"Have a good evening," he murmured, withdrawing discreetly when all were settled. Corinne smiled a him. In the end, Madame had contrived with Clara to pull the whole stunt off. As she sat back to wait for the curtain to open, she brushed against Monsieur's sleeve. He gave her one of his rare smiles.

Everything was just perfect.

***

A week after the royalty-graced opening night, Saitou found himself at the docks. He had lied to his superior, spouting a lot of nonsense about a fight downtown, so that he could watch the ship sail for France while his subordinates sniffed out the fabricated ramble. So far, the only thing that happened was the Stevedore Parade up and down the plank, heavy trunks on their shoulders. The lady passengers were just arriving, while their men supervised the cargo loading.

When a string of carriages halted by the pier, Saito knew that what he had come for had arrived. From behind a pile of crates and loose rope, he watched as Corinne stepped down, her teacher hovering nearby. Warm in her long cape, she looked – and felt – farther from him than ever. Saitou did not approach, even though she was clearly looking for him. It was his last chance to say good-bye... Clenching his jaw, he stood his ground.

The boarding call reverberated in the unusually bright autumn morning. Passengers trailed up the plank, then crowded around on the deck, waving to those left on the port. She remained until the final call, still hoping to see him. Then a loud cranking cut through the goodbyes. The vessel turned around slowly, anchor rising from the murky depths. Saitou could see her on the deck, leaning dangerously far out. Wanting to see him, he knew.

Finally, he stood in full view.

Throwing the port a last, wistful glance, she retreated at the urging of a companion, disappearing into the cabins below. Saito felt just the teeniest bit of regret. She did not see him.

****

**A/N: THIS IS NOT THE END!!! (But you must have gathered that by now, dear readers...) There's still an epilogue, so please, please review. (or you'll never know what ultimately happened! Mwahahaha!) Really now. Thank you for reading ( as again). I will keep this author's note short, because right now, I can't really think of anything to say, which is a real miracle for a chatterer like me...**

**Please, again, review. One review per visitor's not asking too much, right? Right??**

**Love, **

**Tibbits.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Epilogue**

"Where from?" Saito snapped at the officer who had quietly placed a package on his desk. He had a stack of paper work to do added to the fact that it had been a very disagreeable day, and did not want to go through the hassle of tackling a mystery box that he could just as easily ask one of his men to open for him.

"From Marseilles, in France," came the quick reply. The younger man bowed and instantly excused himself from the stark office.

Saito put down his pen, careful not to upset the inkpot. It would not do to agitate himself even more than he already was. Honing one's gatotsu skills in the police station was not a very healthy practise, after all. He passed his eyes over the small, Manila paper-wrapped bundle. France. It had been some time since the troupe left, and he had not heard of them since autumn. He undid the strings, lifting out a very familiar puzzle box. As he did so, a page of closely written Japanese fluttered onto his desk.

_Dear Lieutenant Fujita,_

_Forgive me for not having been able to properly thank you for the flowers you have sent through Himura-san. I would like to do that now. Clara has been instructing me in Japanese so that I may write to you, and this letter does make me feel so accomplished! It is the little I can do to repay you for your kindness. _

_Your country is constantly in my thoughts. It reminds me of the time I spent there, of the friends I made...and of you. I trust that everyone is well. There will be no more opportunity for us to meet again, in this life, or in the next, but I hope this letter will help keep me in your memory. _

_I write to thank you, and also to say _sayonara_. By the time this letter reaches you, I am gone and buried. Yet while I was with you, you made me think that I could live forever, that if I just fought very hard, I would win. And I did. Thank you, _Monsieur.

_This will be a very short letter, but before it is concluded, I suppose I must explain why I sent you the puzzle box you taught me to solve. I had finally done as you did, and out popped the lid. I wanted to show you sooner, but circumstances did not allow, so I thought I could wait until now._

_Once again, I thank you for all that you have done. I am forever indebted to you,_

_Corinne._

The box was still there on the table, waiting to be opened. It didn't take long before Saito was upon it, going through the remembered motions until a small _pop_ exposed its secret inner space. Inside was a dried rose in half-bloom, the pink of its crisp petals still there. He shut it again and barely knowing what he was doing, grabbed the parcel and escaped the police station with barely a passable excuse.

His mind emptied the moment he shut himself inside his house. Strange when he found that he had never again gotten used to the silence of his empty abode, subconsciously thinking that one day, he'd return home and hear her hurrying down the steps to greet him. His eyes travelled to the neat little dining room in the far corner, and he realized with a pang that the wooden tub in the sink would never be used for washing muddy dresses and ink-stained uniforms again.

In agonizingly slow motions Saito entered his house proper, noticing for the first time in months the absence of tiny wooden clogs and beat-up pink satin dancing shoes in the foyer. As the stairs creaked under his weight, he thought of the mornings spent untangling long, tangled hair, but just could not be thankful that he need never go through the ordeal again.

The quiet sliding of the shoji door was a little reassuring. _She will be here, for sure,_ he told himself, but her old room was bare except for a writing table set in the middle of the area. _His writing table_, he had to remind himself.

Standing alone, blankly staring at the four walls of his room, he wondered where she could have run off. She wasn't at the dojo, nor was she at home. She wasn't even on the street near the sweet shop the last time he checked. Finally he sat down. Engulfed in stupefaction, a sudden blow of numbness hit him. He felt something that can only be called remorse, an emotion he had never before encountered.

"So. She'll never be here again."

Somehow, saying it out loud just made it all seem so painfully real, so much of something that had to be dealt with. He bowed his head and sighed, thinking of his poor little self and his poor little house that never more was to be filled with laughter and the candid prattling of pure nonsense.

_Gone forever._

But through his distress, he failed to notice the cherry trees blooming outside, the street musician cranking up lively tunes as little children danced around their mothers, and the babies laughing at the world and all its caprices. He thought only of the heaviness that weighed him down, unsure when it will be lifted, or if it ever will be. A gust of wind sent a blossom floating into the chamber, settling before the man and making him start in surprise. He picked it up and glanced out towards its source. That little voice he never understood in life, he did now in death.

_I never really left._

****

**A/N: We have come to the end of this short and sorry tale. All the same, please leave a review, if that's not too much of a bother. I'll make this short, so as not to wreck the mood and all. Oh, disclaimer: This is the end already. Everybody should know by now that Ruroni Kenshin/ Samurai X can never belong to me...oh, how sad...**

**For the last time (in this story, anyway, so those who found my A/N annoying, don't rejoice yet!),**

**Tibbits. Signing out.**


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